Rest

Trout Whisperer

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  • Prostaff Member Trout Whisperer

I’m lying in the sunshine on a very large rock. This piece of ancient igneous is located on the North Shore of Pine Lake in northeastern Minnesota. I did not kill myself getting here. No arduous portages. Mosquitoes? Non-existent. Paddling easily at two miles per hour with a nicely loaded canoe made for a leisurely pace.

I’m resting. Completely relaxed.

It's not relaxation from sunburn or cramped muscles, paddling, or the chores of setting the tents to make an ultimate camp site. It's all been so simple.

I can seek relief in a sheltered bay from the open lakes buffeting winds. The tump line on my Duluth pack, after an 87 rod portage, can stiff my neck. When you set the canoe down after an uphill 100 ft of elevation portage, your shoulders feel like they're floating. That's one type of rest. Relief rest. Stop the pain rest.

This is the mental and physical type of refreshing, soul filling, can't help but smile of joy rest. My brain is on cruise control. I’m not cranked about anything that's gone wrong, because nothing has. No minor inconveniences. No small cuts, abrasions, misplaced items, forgotten must haves.

Mentally, because I’m not day dreaming, I start checking things off. No aching back or hot feet. My clothes are not soaked with sweat. No salt in my eyes. My coffee is delicious. Yup, this is the good stuff. No requests for my services. No tangled fishing lines or kids squabbles to settle.


Air currents so warm, my nose is scenting, at the low, low, price of free. Aroma therapy from sunshine heated lofty white pines. My eyes drift with puffy white clouds absent the threatening look of potential thunder or rain. The blue sky reflecting blue water that happens to be gently lapping the rock I sprawl out on.

This evening, I plan on a fish fry over some dried, shore strewn firewood. I’m going to light that fire with birch bark because I love the smell. Then during my dinner, I will watch the BWCA in a live broadcast. No satellite dish required. My favorite station plays the wind blowing or loons calling, perhaps a raven floating overhead. Commercials are the occasional fish jumping or the fellow canoeists plying the far shore in search of a pike or down lake campsite.

Oh, yes, that will be later, because I’m resting now.

Posted by Trout Whisperer under Hunting Stories on February 7, 09 09:06 AM | Permalink

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